


Merry-Go-Round

by truc



Series: It's 100% Bruce's fault, I swear! [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Hood- All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Jason Todd, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Biting, Bonding, But not between main characters, Clocks, Explicit Language, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jason Todd/younger Bruce Wayne, Jason is almost the reasonable one here., M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Omega Bruce Wayne, Possessive Jason Todd, Sex, Time Travel, crass Jason, detective young Bruce, messed up Bruce Wayne, messed up Jason Todd, non-con biting, sex trade, troublemaker Jason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28423092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truc/pseuds/truc
Summary: "Let me get this straight," Jason said, sarcastic, "Your plan to flush out an Omega sex trafficking ring in the Narrows is to act as bait, get kidnapped and, then, beat everybody up. I'm sure Alfred is ecstatic with keeping watch over your suicidal ass."There was a telling silence."Tell me that Alfred at least acts as your backup."The same fucking silence just became more awkward."Where is Alfred?" Jason growled out."He lost track of me about an hour ago."
Relationships: Bruce Wayne/Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Batfamily
Series: It's 100% Bruce's fault, I swear! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2084232
Comments: 38
Kudos: 144





	1. Territory

**Author's Note:**

> Later chapters will become more explicit. I'll put warnings in the notes at the beginning of the chapters.

If there were one thing Gotham could be proud of, it would be the democratization of the villains. Or, at least, that was Jason's humble opinion. In Gotham, everyone could become a villain: old, young, woman, man, in-between genders, gay, lesbian, bisexual, asexual, rich, poor, strong, weak, Alpha, Beta, Omega, smart or dumb. One truly only needed an unhealthy obsession and some determination to become a villain.

Jason should know; he had been on the unofficial top five villains Gotham billboard list for some time. Nowadays, unfortunately, he was on the unofficial top five Gotham vigilantes billboard list even though he was travelling abroad (or off-planet) more often than not.

Tonight, his stint had more to do with the vigilante community than the villain one.

"Oracle to Red Hood," he heard his comms light up again. Instead of answering, he jumped and rolled on a rooftop.

"Red Hood," the voice insisted, "Are you listening?"

Red Hood had better things to do than to play nice with the Batfamily, especially now.

He could hear Barbara, under her Oracle persona, lose her patience.

"Red Hood," Oracle repeated, "You removed cameras in a big part of the Narrows in a petty revenge move against Batman. How am I supposed to assist you in times of trouble? I don't even have visuals on the target." That was the point, Jason mentally retorted. Keeping the Bats away from his territory had become a necessity.

"Sulk all you want," Oracle continued, "You know this means Batman will come in person to investigate."

Red Hood gritted his teeth as his fingers hovered automatically over his guns, ready to blast away whoever was dumb enough to make an incident in his territory. "He'll get a bullet in his brain if he's dumb enough to cross _**my**_ borders."

If Oracle had been anyone else in the ridiculous Batfamily, she would have mocked him about his Alpha's territoriality.

Although Gotham was Batman's territory, the Narrows blurred as Red Hood's. And Batman had no business messing up with Red Hood's place.

Jason's last battle to drive Batman away hadn't seemingly left enough of an impression; next time, he'd use dynamite rather than bullets to prove his point.

With that joyful determination in mind, Red Hood's gaze swept the area of the destroyed building beside it, trying to find the troublemaker messing with his fucking home turf.

Red Hood glimpsed forest green clothes below before the figure retreated in the nearby alley. The vigilante dropped behind him, the street lights flickering ominously above them.

In the strikes of light, Red Hood could make out the comically round glasses, the green bowler hat, the walking stick and the meticulously green dressed wiry man. Already, his mind travelled down the list of known villains to rest on a B-listed villain: the Clock King.

Most Gothamites would have been relieved it wasn't a better-known villain; they would have been wrong. Sometimes, the difference between the A-listed villains and the B-listed villains was skills or the sheer level of ridiculousness of the villain's objectives. In other instances, the only difference between the A-listed villains and the B-listed villains was the publicity stunts associated with them or their luck.

The Clock King fell in the second category.

His lack of credentials made him more dangerous rather than less. Batman and the rest of the city's vigilantes had studied him however, since the man hadn't had many appearances, his file was short and incomplete. Their attention focused automatically on the bigger and more repetitive threats rather than the odd one out criminal. Moreover, seeing that everyone in the vigilantes' community was perpetually on the edge of burnouts, they didn't have time to invest thoroughly researching each criminal.

The Clock King, despite his austere and elderly clothing, was highly intelligent, technologically advanced and precise as the clock he revered. According to some of Replacement's theories, the villain might have the meta-human talent to see a few seconds in the future.

Well, bottom line, Red Hood streamlined his knowledge into his combat mind.

Red Hood shot in the man's direction, determined to overpower him as soon as possible.

The walking stick in the Clock King's hands doubled as a clock's hand-shaped sword, which blocked the shots with ease. But Red Hood had already guessed that repartee (conventions stated that villains, except henchmen, never fell on the first attack); he had run toward the target, guns blazing.

The sword danced in his direction, aiming true, but missing due to Jason's superior evasive skills.

"Why did you destroy the building?" Red Hood snarled with his Alpha scent pushed aggressively in the other man's direction.

The man looked at him, almost devoid of life in his mechanically timed attacks. "I didn't destroy it."

_What?_

Clock King retreated two steps, glanced at his pocket watch and nodded to himself.

"It's time," the man stated. Red Hood then heard the creaking sound of unhinged fixtures hurtling toward him from the destroyed building"s roof.

Roll, jump and shield: Red Hood barely made it out in one piece and, one arm stung like hell.

The stoic villain had already moved away. No matter, Red Hood would get the motherfucker!

He sprinted, anger roused and mind whirling.

Clock King ran into the burnt-out building, sword still unsheathed.

Red Hood followed suit without a hint of hesitation.

"Red Hood," Oracle said through his comm, urgency in her tone, "the building isn't going to last long."

No _shit_ , Sherlock.

Jason did the only thing sensible: he closed his comm channel and sprinted in the dilapidated place with gusto.

Clock King glanced back. Red Hood threw his electrifying wire at his feet and entangled him. As the nerdy-looking man fell hard, the vigilante yelled, incensed, "Not so fast, you piss poor excuse of a villain! Real villains fight till the end!"

Hauling the villain like a fish caught in a net, Red Hood started towards the exit. "Now, you're going to explain why you're messing up with my territory!"

Clock King's (surprisingly intact) glasses fell on the ground at the shaking movement. Red Hood's boots crushed them without hesitation. Then, out of nowhere, the mechanical man smiled contentedly at something behind Jason.

Shit! Maybe Red Hood should have cameras on the back of his helmet!

He only had time to see a fucking ancient wood grandfather clock glowing green and falling on top of him.

He felt himself plunging through some odd green-tinted portal, no Clock King on hand.

Jason fell hard on the rooftop, knees jolting in pain as they crashed on the surface while his stomach ached. Then, the uneasiness in his stomach translated to the disgusting sensation of pre-retching, one of which the man was too intimately knowledgeable. Unable to stop his body's momentum, Jason removed his helmet, opened his mouth and puked a revolting mixture of shitty half-done supper and half-stolen lunch all over the nasty roof. It smelled twice as bad as when Jason had eaten them on the go.

This situation (and the grandfather clock for some reason), although it had very little in common with his memory, reminded him of something worse: one of the first outings Bruce had taken him after he had taken him under his 'wing.'

_That day, Jason had warily followed Bruce in the car and into a populated area he had never visited before: an amusement park. Gotham's one and only one before it later was used in some villains' sinister plot. Afterwards, nobody was insane enough to invest in another amusement park._

_Be it as it may, Jason could remember the day as it was yesterday, standing beside Bruce and watching suspiciously at the various rollercoasters and their long lines of joyous people. After a moment, he had looked at Bruce and seen the large man was almost as perplexed with why people would pay to put their lives at risk as Jason was._

_Bruce glanced down and blinked at Jason's accusing stare. "Don't you want to try one?"_

_Jason grimaced._

_Bruce looked bewildered. "It's okay if you don't want to. I just thought kids liked these things."_

_Richard Grayson loved those things, Jason deduced. He was the anomaly, the street rat who should have been thankful for a rich man's attention. Of course, he would be an unsatisfying ward or whatever the fuck he was. Instead of spiralling into the same comparison he was making every day between him and Richard, Jason opted to challenge, "Did ya?"_

_"Did I what?" Bruce asked with a slight tilt of his head._

_"Did ya like this when you were young?" Jason pushed as he gestured to the crowds of milling people eating, laughing, looking like a Hallmark card, in their little perfectly sunny fucking world._

_The older man observed the crowd for so long that Jason almost thought he wouldn't get an answer._

_"No. I've never been interested in going on one of those," Bruce casually admitted, both hands in his pricey dark wool jacket, one Jason had been eying to steal and sell at a pawn shop he knew._

_Maybe Jason wasn't the only odd duck here after all._

_He grabbed Bruce's arm and grinned mischievously up at him. "Well, in that case, old man, you're riding with me." Only after he received a perplexed look sent his way did Jason figure out this was the first time he'd initiated physical contact with the billionaire._

_"Okay," Bruce slowly said. "What do you want us to try?"_

_Jason shrugged, hands still gripping Bruce's arm like a weight on the balloon's string. The older man looked around and pointed to a merry-go-round with unicorns and other magical creatures. "We should start easy," Bruce dead-panned, as if he wasn't the goddamn Batman, the terror of the night._

_"Your taste is atrocious as always, old man," Jason said, "but I'm taking the Kraken and, you're taking the girly horse! Last one there is a rotten egg!"_

Needless to say, Jason had started puking his breakfast before his Kraken had even gotten to full speed. The silver lining? Bruce never offered the amusement park to Jason again (and Bruce's stoic face when confronted with a puke stained wool jacket was a thing of beauty).

"Fuck," Jason muttered, back in the present, as he carelessly wiped away his mouth on his sleeve, still hurt and confused in who knows where. The story of his life, if he was honest.

Not that honesty wasn't overrated anyway. Fuck honesty!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my third fic dealing with time travel and my third Omega Bruce fic (If I count my series as one). I really have some recurring genres, don't I?
> 
> Thanks for the kudos/comments!


	2. Kitty Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason meets past Bruce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some violence (i.e. bloody nose).

It took Jason some time to snap out of his confused state. Then, he looked around, recognizing Gotham and the Narrows.

He'd stood on this very rooftop more than a few times in the past years, near the red-light district. He'd almost managed to kill Black Mask a few rooftops over with a gun, Joker on the next street with a knife and Batman two street over with a bomb. He missed the good old times when he could shot at someone without thinking of Batman's rule or the consequence it entailed.

Seeing how he had just gone through a green-powered grandfather clock portal (what the fuck!?! why couldn't he get a typical looking portal for once?), this Gotham and Narrows probably wasn't his version. Yeah, Jason was never lucky like that; Hitler or Joker or something probably ruled the world or something. Well, he might as well bit the bullet.

Jason carefully hid his Red Hood helmet on the rooftop, not intent on appearing as Red Hood to get the news on this world, and removed his diamond mask. Then, he disguised his guns.

Wiping his mouth once more, Jason made his way down the stairs, on high alert for whatever this world would send his way.

On the streets, he recognized the same type of people that frequent his area of living. Prostitutes accosted potential customers and gave out cards while most people walking down the road seemed suspicious, impecunious or both. The street was renowned for the backroom deals concerning anything illegal or obtained by under-the-counter means. It took some time for Jason to figure out what was wrong with the place.

When he took out his cellphone to check the time, he realized nobody had cellphones in their hands. In his timeline, prostitutes arranged most details by text messages or emails rather than business cards.

No cellphones.

Then, he observed more closely the clothing.

That was also old looking. Jason had gone to a timeline less technologically advanced and possibly to the past.

Well, fuck.

How was he supposed to go back to his timeline? Find the grandfather clock?

Short-term, he needed to find out whether he could use the currency in his pockets. That was easy enough to test.

Jason stopped at a food stall. "I want the hotdog and fries combo."

The dark-skinned man, Joe, narrowed his eyes at Jason's dusty clothes. "That'll be 2.50. Payment is upfront."

"Sure." Jason gave the man three bills.

Barely glancing at them, the man felt the texture and slipped them into his metal box. He gave back his change. Then, the genius hotdog cooker went to work, the sizzling smell of grilling meat drifting in the air, something Jason hadn't smelled in five years.

In Red Hood's timeline, Joe died five years ago because he couldn't afford to pay the right people for protection. Meanwhile, Batman and Robin were busy stopping Catwoman from stealing from a rich prick on the other side of town.

"Thanks, Joe," Jason heartfeltly said when he received the hotdog and fries. This Joe still had some years before Jason's Joe's death time, persuading Jason this was some timeline at least a decade prior.

The man nodded curtly, sweat dripping from his forehead due to his proximity to the grill.

Tears threatened to appear in Jason's eyes as he ate a hotdog he could never eat in his timeline. When Jason's father had sent him out of his home once, Joe had given him a hotdog free of charge; the best fucking hotdog Jason had ever tasted.

Jason was so immersed in the nostalgic gustative experience that he almost failed to react to the familiar Omega scent wafting in the air. _Wait_ , was that...?

He was far from the only one looking around for the one painting himself with the target. Nobody (except prostitute, and even then, they usually modified it) in the Narrows walked around with unsuppressed Omega scent. Even kids knew to steal or invent perfumes or suppressants or, at least, block their mating gland with something.

Someone not wearing any scents was admitting they were fresh-faced victims to be.

'What is he doing in my territory?' Jason asked himself as he rushed towards a sweater-wearing person with a lowered hood. The person, smaller in height than Jason, turned into an alleyway.

Seeing other people heading that way, Jason growled menacingly to establish his territory. No one insisted (the boss of the area seemed absent, thank God).

“Wait,” Jason commanded before he could think twice about interacting with this timeline’s Bruce.

The person stopped and turned their hooded face in his direction.

Suddenly, irrationally, Jason felt the welling flames of anger in his chest. Bruce always ruined everything, even the hotdog taste of nostalgia Jason rarely indulged.

”Are you fucking stupid coming in the Narrows, alone, without taking any suppressant?”

“It’s none of your business.” The tone and the words were exactly the ones Jason’s timeline’s Bruce used, however, the voice wasn’t as deep.

At those passionless words, Bruce, still hidden under his cowl, turned and walked away. That, too, was _fucking_ familiar.

Jason hurried along and put his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Wait a sec-”

Bruce twisted around and grabbed for his arm. Jason wasn’t going to let this inexperienced version of his former mentor bully him around; he seized his arm, twisted it hard in the boy’s back and slammed him hard into the wall. As an extra measure, he contorted the boy’s second arm behind his back and kept him pinned face against the brick wall.

“Are you going to listen to me now?” Jason growled into the smaller man’s ear, careful not to be overheard by the spectators watching them. Bruce refused to answer verbally; instead, he tried to struggle his way out.

Jason gave a satisfying twist of the arms, not enough to dislocate them, but enough to hurt the stubborn pain in the ass that was Bruce (in any timeline). Jason's hotdog and fries had fallen to the ground during their earlier struggle.

“I’m not messing around,” Jason hotly told him, “so listen _real_ good.”

The black hood fell slightly away as Bruce turned his head sideways to get a look at him. Nose bleeding, resentful and indignant blue eyes, pinched lips; fuck, this was better catharsis than any therapy Jason had ever attended.

Maybe, all along, he just needed to slam Bruce into a wall, pin him there and force him to listen. This felt _so_ good. It should definitively become a Robin rite of passage.

“Now, what the hell are you doing coming here without adult supervision and your suppressant?”

“I’m not a kid.” Did he say that with a pout!?!

“Aren’t you like sixteen?”

“I’m eighteen. I can come here on my own.”

Jason was disappointed; no member of the Batfamily had been nearly this weak at that age. Seriously, even thirteen-year-old Damian could beat this guy up in his sleep. So, why was he confident in his abilities to waltzed here without suppressants?

“It doesn’t explain why you came without suppressants.”

“I forgot it,” Bruce lied. Jason gave the arms another twist. Bruce’s breathing hitched.

“Do I look gullible enough to drink glass? When I want answers, you give it to me.”

Bruce tried to hit him with his foot so, Jason pressed his legs behind Bruce’s to stop him from gaining momentum for his kicks.

“Suppressant,” Jason repeated.

As Bruce played mute, Jason figured he should deduct the answers rather than torture his former mentor into answering them; realistically speaking, as satisfying as torture would be, he wouldn’t get any worthwhile answers from Bruce.

In truth, the only reasons Omegas didn’t wear suppressant or put scent over theirs was if they were trying to find a sex partner, looking for trouble, naïve as hell or didn’t have a choice. Bruce was not seeking a sex partner in the Narrows in this way, nor was he naïve as hell (at least, not that much) and, he certainly had other options. That only left one option; Bruce was purposefully looking for trouble.

He had to be acting as bait to get kidnappers or other such monsters to try and take advantage of him.

After another twist of Bruce’s arms (for the sheer joyfulness it provided him), Jason asked, “Are you trying to take down an Omega sex trafficking ring by acting as bait?” Bruce twitched in his hands.

This Bruce wasn’t even a good liar.

"Let me get this straight," Jason said, sarcastic, "Your plan to flush out an Omega sex trafficking ring in the Narrows is to act as bait, get kidnapped and, then, beat everybody up. I'm sure Alfred is ecstatic with keeping watch over your suicidal ass."

There was a telling silence.

"Tell me that Alfred at least acts as your backup."

The same fucking silence just became more awkward.

"Where is Alfred?" Jason growled out.

"He lost track of me about an hour ago."

“Are you **FUCKING** insane!” Jason yelled.

“Don’t yell in my ears!” Bruce gritted back.

“You’re the most reckless and idiotic person I’ve ever met and, I’ve met quite a lot of morons!” Jason couldn’t believe he was the one yelling that at his former mentor.

Somewhere during his series of epiphanies, Jason’s grip on Bruce’s hands slightly weakened. Bruce took advantage of the weakness by lifting his elbow and jamming it in Jason's head.

Jason saw red (literally and figuratively) and pressed his whole body on Bruce until the man was squished hard against the wall, his breathing disturbed.

Even Jason’s breathing became harsher. “Here’s what you are going to do. You’re going to call Alfred and ask him to pick you up in the Gotham shopping district. I’ll even help you get to that road in one piece. Do we have a deal?”

“No!”

Fuck this shit. Jason should hit him unconscious and drag him back to the Manor in a cab (paid with Bruce’s cash, of course). Bruce had to weigh about 150 lbs. It was well within the draggable range.

“The Omega sex trafficking ring is moving tonight. If I can’t catch them tonight, the victims will be sent to who knows where in the rotation. We can catch both the new arrivals and the ones currently operating in the Narrows if we time it right,” Bruce explained reluctantly.

Well, that changed everything.

Jason took a step back but didn’t release the smaller man. “Why didn’t you get Alfred on board with your little project?”

“How do you even know Alfred?”

Jason, sensing his familiarity to Alfred had been too obvious, said the first thing he could think of: “After your last dangerous stint, Alfred, one of my acquaintances, hired me as your covert bodyguard to keep you out of trouble.” He even released Bruce to show his good faith and stepped away.

Bruce’s expression became blank. Admittingly, there were so many plot holes in Jason’s story that nobody would try to board that boat. Except for Jason.

“His phone number is x-xxx-xxx-xxxx,” Jason said, hoping the phone number was the same as in his timeline. “The Bruce Wayne Manor’s number is x-xxx-xxx-xxxx,” he added as he saw no adverse reaction.

Jason glanced at the entry of the alleyway and noticed some people were still looking in their direction once in a while, but that most seemed disappointed in the absence of a good show. “Maybe we should continue this conversation elsewhere, _princess_.”

Bruce frowned at the new nickname but nodded away, eyes wary.

Jason rolled his eyes as he sponged away the blood courtesy of Bruce’s elbow move. “If I wanted to kidnap you, I wouldn’t even need your cooperation, you know? I’m taller, stronger and, a much better fighter than you are. You haven't even trained with the League of Assassins. Besides, you’re in the seediest part of town. Nobody will react if I just dragged your uncooperative ass away.”

Bruce looked ready to bolt. Maybe Jason could have worded that a bit better to save Bruce some face, but you know what? Who cares about Bruce’s enormous pride?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I hope this year fares better than the last one.


	3. Bait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Jason against human sex traffickers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied rape reference, implied non-consensual drug, human trafficking. Nothing extremly explicit nor detailed, but they are mentioned.
> 
> Canon-typical violence.

It took Jason an eternity to convince Bruce that he'd help him. Then, the real work began.

First, he hauled Bruce to a make-up store to create the escaped-from-the-abusive-home impression best suited for the bait part of the plan ("don't clean up too much of your bloody nose," Jason suggested with a smirk).

Secondly, he dragged Bruce, kicking and screaming, into a thrift shop for an appropriate attire ("the last thing we want is them thinking you're working for the FBI").

Thirdly, Jason found additional 'protective' gears at another under-the-counter specialized shop ("you sure you don't want guns? They're a lot better than your ridiculous knives").

Fourthly, Jason surreptitiously placed a tracker in Bruce's new clothing.

Finally, operation 'Omega bait' was a go.

"I'll keep track of you, but don't let them bite your mating gland. Seriously, there's no going back on that kind of shit. Are you sure you're not putting on a collar?"

Bruce, the brat, glared at him while he crossed his arms. "If I fasten a collar on, they won't be able to smell me well enough for me to be bait."

Jason knew the logic behind the move; for some reason, it irritated him. Usually, for bait plays like these, the Batfamily had specialized collars or patches that protected the gland and let out the scent. However, based on Bruce's age difference, this world (either parallel or not) was sixteen years in the past. Plus, Bruce wasn't even Batman, nor had Wayne Enterprises invested in those products yet.

It occurred to Jason then and there, oddly enough, that he was the first Robin Batman had ever met in this life, yet, ironically, he had resented Dick all his life for being the first one.

Jason looked more attentively at the eighteen-year-old Bruce with a faked bruised eye and lips and a real bloody nose (courtesy of Jason, man, that shit was gratifying). Somehow, this Bruce seemed younger and more innocent than their thirteen-year-old Demon Spawn; the bruises paled the rest of his face, making him look delicate and dainty.

The young adult appeared to listen carefully to Jason's warnings, yet there was still caution in his eyes. His smell hadn't changed much between young adulthood to the current Bruce, yet, there was the crispness of a barely ripe Omega scent hanging around him. Sending this inexperienced young man into the wolves' den, even if he was Batman to be, felt like a mistake.

"Red," Bruce impatiently called out (because that's the name Jason gave himself), "We can't wait any longer. If we want to catch them before the Omegas are shipped, we need to act now."

"Yeah, I know," Jason admitted, stopping himself from stopping Bruce from leaving. He leaned back, eyes furrowed, as he examined Bruce from head-to-toe again with a conflicted look. "You're ready," he confirmed.

Bruce pulled low his raggy sweater's hood and, Jason took his Red Hood helmet (which he had grabbed earlier) in his hands. "Let's get those motherfuckers!"

"Language," Bruce corrected. Jason slighted one eyebrow at him in a 'really?' fashion.

"You don't need to be vulgar," Bruce defended.

"And you don't need to be a pain in the ass, but here we are."

Bruce glared at him and walked in the direction most likely to have the Omega sex traders. After a moment to wear his helmet, Red Hood slipped into the metal ladder on the side of a building and, he ran up. Jason made sure to keep an eye on Bruce's slow and purposefully muddled progress.

How long would they have to wait for the right target to appear?

Jason saw people discussing Bruce at a distance. He clenched his fists as he watched some of them approach the lost-looking young Omega. How many of these bastards had taken advantage of someone over the years? How many of them were rapists, Omega sex traffickers and pedophiles?

Despite all the negative feelings Jason harboured for Bruce, he had never wanted Bruce to end in the hands of one of those sadists. Seeing those ugly predators accosting Bruce made him uneasy.

Bruce only needed to choose the Omega sex traffickers instead of the everyday rapist and, they'd be on track for a successful raid.

He'd have to rely on Bruce's intuition, which, oddly enough, didn't worry him. The human sex traffickers tended to be old hands at convincing impressionable youth or young adults. Besides, they usually wielded power in these sketchy places; the locals knew better than fight for scraps against them. Therefore, Bruce only had to follow the ones that scared off the rest.

Then again, if he caught the eye of someone influential, that was an entirely different story.

Fortunately enough, that part of the plan went without a hitch; after a few minutes, a brown-haired broad shoulder man and a dark-haired woman came forward and, the crowd surrounding Bruce fell back.

The man spoke with Bruce; when Bruce nodded, he placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled nearer. The woman took position on the other side of Bruce as she scowled at the crowd, daring them to interfere.

The man smiled compassionately and, his hand naturally slide over Bruce's shoulder as if to protect him from harm. Jason felt his stomach unsettle by the display; no matter what Bruce would say, that man will lose the use of at least a limb that night.

Bruce played the confused and abused youth to perfection. If Jason had one complaint to make, it would be that his eyes were a tad too intense.

Jason followed their progress, jumping rooftops and surveying his surroundings for guards. A short time later, the man gestured Bruce to enter a grey building with busted commercial advertisements lights. Bruce made a show of hesitating in the man's arm.

The compassionate man pulled him roughly to the entrance, closely followed by the woman observing the surroundings.

As soon as the three had entered the building, Jason aimed his binoculars to the windows. They were all blocked by shades.

Jason used a wire to get on the building's rooftop. The door to the building was easy enough to unlock.

Fiddling with the lock for thirty seconds, Jason rapidly finished the job.

He removed the disguise draped over his guns. _Time to play, girls._

Jason carefully opened the door, a gun in each hand. The corridor was empty.

That suited Red Hood perfectly. After all, he had five floors to visit; he didn't mean to waste his time with nuisances.

In operations like these, there was two satisfying part: saving victims and punishing evil-doers. The second, of course, helped Jason sleep better at night.

Seeing the abused, their vacant eyes, flinching thin frame, bruised and bloody limbs, hurt even knowing Jason had put a stop to their torture. The fact of the matter was that nobody had saved them just in the nick of time; there was no grandstanding novel's hero to rescue them before they'd suffered.

Sex trafficking rings were the worst, specifically those concerning young children. During his stint as Robin and Red Hood, Jason had seen too many of them, too many wasted souls. Some would eventually stand on their own two feet and make their way through; some would never be able to recover from the ordeal.

Red Hood tried not to think of the heroes who arrived too late nor the ones already dead by their arrival time. He didn't think of warehouses, crowbars, explosions or blistering heat. He _fucking_ didn't.

Red Hood _**had**_ transcended all that other life's memory. He _really_ had.

Perpetrators, on the other hand, were easier to deal with; Red Hood tortured them.

Tunnel vision was a blessing for Red Hood; he could concentrate on beating up perpetrators, one gunshot improvement at a time. If only he could rid this world of monsters, then children could live in it.

On the building's fifth floor, he shot or stunned five people; on the fourth floor, seven; on the third floor, three. Fewer people were running at the gunshot sounds.

By the time he had reached the second floor, his anger had multiplied instead of subdued, solidifying into fury. The den was worst than most Omega sex trafficking rings Red Hood had personally witnessed. The victims were drugged to the gills, listless and, a baby or two looked as drugged out as the used-out Omegas. None of them did more than flinched at the sound of the gunshots.

Red Hood made sure to kick the perpetrators hard in their groin area. None of these assholes deserved to keep their balls intact. 

At the back of his mind, he knew he had to hurry up and check on the novice fighter Bruce; further torture would be forthcoming to the perpetrators, he was sure. He knew how prisons worked.

By the second floor, he sprinted to Bruce's location, praying that he wouldn't have to explain to this timeline's Alfred why Bruce died in his care.

As he arrived, the young man, wearing Jason's diamond mask and the raggy sweater he bought with Jason, was expertly throwing a knife at someone. The throwing knife knocked a gun out of the criminal's grip. Advancing confidently, Bruce used a standard, yet precise, executed kick to knock the man unconscious.

Jason smiled under his helmet. He had underestimated this timeline's Bruce. Sure, he wasn't up to the current Batfamily's standard, but he still kicked ass. The elegant form, not yet efficiency-obsessed, dressed in Jason's mask and the clothing they bought together, cut quite a figure. Contrary to the older Bruce, he seemed reckless and _alive_ , in the visceral sense.

 _Fuck_ , even his youthful confidence gave Jason all kinds of sensations. He almost wanted to whistle for some reason.

Bruce noticed his arrival and glanced upstairs. Jason nodded his helmet instead of forming words that might show his weakness.

The youth handcuffed the criminal. "It's clear up to here. I caught the new arrivals' guardians as they came to switch their 'inventory,'" Bruce spat with disgust.

"Let's get out before police officers arrive," Red Hood finally said.

Bruce nodded and, they headed downstairs. They encountered Omegas beating up their unconscious jailers; when Bruce tried to intervene, Red Hood held his arm.

"Unless you want to be arrested and processed at the police station, we don't have time for this."

With a slight hesitation, the younger man followed Red Hood in what the helmeted man decided was his total victory.

From the building's back door, they could hear the police's sirens. _Fuck._ When Jason was young, it usually took half an hour for the police officers to reach almost any criminal's hideout after a call for help.

Incompetence or corruption? He still wasn't sure.

Why were they now fast?

Bruce and Jason sprinted through back alleys, Jason leading them through a maze of mismatch building conceptions. Finally, they stopped in a 'fake' dead-end blocked from the car accessible road's view by a wooden fence.

Adrenaline-spiked, Red Hood missed the look Bruce gave him. However, he heard him order: "Remove your helmet."

If this were older Bruce, he would have crossed his arms and insulted him.

This man _wasn't_ stoic and cold-hearted Bruce.

And he had _trusted_ and _followed_ Jason's lead all night.

Jason wasn't unreasonable. So, he removed his helmet without hesitation.

Bruce, still breathing hard, drew closer, his eyes' full attention focused solely on Jason's face.

For the first time in a long time, Jason felt terror. A chill passed over his heart as he waited for this man's judgment all over again, Robin for Batman's praise, Jason for Bruce's.

Bruce's hand cupped his jaw delicately, forcing Jason's gaze into his determined one. Deliberately, he brought his lips forward, giving Jason ample time to reject him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason that police officers are fast to arrive on the scene is because it is Jim Gordon. Just in case you're wondering about that small bit.


	4. Jason's Archnemesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two reckless and emotionally repressed idiots should never be left without adult supervision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut. Public sex, rough sex, knotting... All consensual. Non-consensual Biting mating gland. A bit of blood comes with that. 
> 
> If you don't want to read smut (I can understand that), you can read my end note; there's a chapter summary (with author commentary).

Jason froze at the seduction attempt; he'd focused his restless energy on beating villains, then, he had been too busy being dead, then catatonic and, then, spinning his revenge against Gotham, Joker and Batman. He'd never fucked anyone; nobody had tried to seduce him more than a few flirting comments flung his way.

Bruce stopped his movement at Jason's chilled reception.

As Bruce was removing his hand from Jason's cheek, Jason brought his hand on Bruce's hand and placed it back on his cheek.

"It's okay," Jason said as he looked into Bruce's eyes. Maybe it was the leftover adrenaline speaking; he didn't want Bruce to stop his seduction.

He just wanted to be Bruce's sole focus again. No mission. No previous or later Robins. No Jokers. Just them. _**Fuck**_ the consequences; he'd do anything to get a bit more of this drug, of this riveting and addiction attention.

Bruce sealed their lips together, his lips and tongue slowly exploring the new territory. Jason parted his lips at the sensation and, Bruce didn't hesitate to plunge in his partner's mouth, infecting Jason's mouth with a familiar (but never tasted) Omega scent, one ripe for the taking.

It felt good. Bruce was too adroit at this; even five years younger than him, Bruce knew much more about the lovers' lore than he did. _Fuck_ , just how much experience did eighteen-year-old Bruce have?

To cover his embarrassment, his inexperience and his impromptu jealousy, Jason gave in to his hunger. His tongue mingled with Bruce's while his hands pressed the younger man into his hips.

Bruce released Jason's jaw and slung his arm around Jason's neck, mashing their lips harder together.

For a long moment, they were so intertwined. When they both gulped air, pheromones heady, Jason asked, "How did you know?"

He wasn't sure what he was asking.

_How did you recognize me before we've even met? How did you know I needed your attention or affection? How did you know to trust me?_

Bruce tilted his head, a twinkle in his eyes. "When you pinned me to the wall earlier, you were aroused."

"I wear a protective cup," Jason denied.

Bruce pulled Jason's head until his mouth was at Jason's ear. "I can tell when people _want_ me."

Jason snapped out of the embrace, growling, as he grabbed Bruce's sweater near his chest. "I _don't_ want you."

Bruce continued to watch him from behind his lowered eyelashes. "Dilated eyes, stimulated scent, raspy voice, sweaty hands; you had me fooled with all of those physical cues."

He smirked. "We can stop if I scare you."

Those were entirely the wrong words to say.

Jason's eyes narrowed sharply as his grip on the sweater strengthened. "You think _I'm_ scared of you?"

Before Bruce could even answer, he continued, "You should be terrified of _me_."

Bruce gave a sly smile. "Are you all talk, no action?"

Jason kissed Bruce hard, sealing the infuriating mouth off.

Jason bit Bruce's lips, blood mingling with their saliva. Fuck. Too much energy flowed in his bloodstream, most of it going south. He couldn't think, couldn't use any higher faculty to question his decision-making.

Jason ground on Bruce like the man was a body pillow and, the man ground back with the same intensity. Sparks went off, _fuck_ ; that protective cup had to disappear.

Jason didn't know whether or not Bruce was on the same wavelength as his cock, but immediately after he had the thought, Bruce's hands reached for his zipper, unzipping in one swell movement.

A groan echoed as hands removed his protective cup. _Fuck_ , the air hit his burning passion and his balls. He couldn't breathe; he barely stopped himself from begging for release. Something caressed the shaft; Jason shuddered.

He heard a chuckle. Jason opened the eyes he hadn't known he had closed. Blue eyes were examining him, slicing him open to the very core.

He'd seen those eyes a lot in his life, but never this young, _this_ lively.

Without consciously thinking about it, Jason's mouth was already back on Bruce's, sucking, nipping and licking like a mad dog going after his beloved bone.

His groin gained friction on Bruce's pants however, it wasn't enough- not nearly so- to sate his thirst, his hunger he had never understood.

Thankfully, Bruce seemed more coherent as he shimmied his pants off. Jason's hands explored those expanses of flesh, gliding, groping without plans besides the pleasure of discovering whatever laid bare.

Then, Bruce thrust forward, his cock sliding beside Jason's.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" Jason babbled deliriously, already completely fucked up.

Bruce moaned.

Until that moment, Jason didn't know a sound could drive him crazy. Fuck, he needed more of them.

"Remember how I pinned you to the wall today? I'll pin you here and fuck you so hard you won't remember your name." Amateurish boasts tumbled out of Jason's mouth; he spewed more and more ridiculous things, wanting to force more sounds out of Bruce.

He started to believe himself, that his goal was to make his stubborn mentor forget about everything but Jason. Even Bruce seemed to believe his stupid talk as he moaned and thrust back with vigour.

 _Fuck, Jason was losing his mind_. He turned Bruce around to face the wall, mimicking how he had pinned him earlier in the day, except he didn't grab Bruce's arms.

He humped at the man's soft ass. "I'll fuck you here where everyone can see you take it like a bitch in heat."

"More," Bruce pushed back.

One finger slipped in his crack. As Jason removed the finger, he stared at his slicked finger. "You're wet," Jason dumbly declared.

"Red," Bruce impatiently threw.

Red? Oh, that was the name he had given.

"Bruce," breathed Jason as he plunged two fingers in, just sliding in without a care. Saying the man's name out loud supplied him a sense of urgency. If he didn't fuck him hard enough, Bruce would find _someone else_ , would _beg_ someone else. He needed to hurry, to push him and take his space or, Bruce would replace him all over _again_.

Angry, self-conscious, Jason jammed three fingers in Bruce's ass until he felt the tremors of hitting the jackpot. "Like that? Bet you'd rather eat my cock up your ass. Yeah, you'd like to suck all my sperm until I'm dry."

Bruce trembled, hands on the wall.

Jason pressed Bruce's button as he whispered all sorts of insanities. "Here, not even the whores fuck outside in the open. Are you worse than them? Do you want people to see you like this? Crying for a cock?"

"Stop messing around and get to it," Bruce breathed out. "We'll get caught," he added in an after-thought.

For a moment, Jason paused. Was this a weird wet dream or, was he on drugs or something? Why else would he be fingers deep into a pliant Bruce's ass?

 _Fuck it_ , he decided, whatever weird reality this was, he'd at least get off.

Carefully, he guided his cock in the ass, reining in his envy to pound or cum. This sex was practice for the real thing, whoever that meant. Hurting a partner was a big turn-off.

"Move," Bruce strangled out, face unseen.

This order was easy enough to obey. Jason slid in, groaning. Holding tight to Bruce's hips, his tempo accelerated as he gained experience, fucking a cacophony of whines and groans out of Bruce.

Jason's motor mouth didn't stop, even as he struggled to speak. " _Fuck_ , you're tight; I can barely move in there. Do you train yourself to take it in the ass every day? Maybe you should add that to your extreme training regimen."

Jason thurst in faster, grunting. "I bet you'd like to fuck dildos all night, every night, to forget how much of a prick you are to everyone. You're so cold to everyone; why's the only place you're warm is your ass?"

"Want me to _knot_ you _good_?" Jason asked after a heavy thrust.

" _Yes_ ," Bruce muttered, sounding as devasted as Jason.

Jason dizzying came and knotted, somewhere between reality and fiction; better than beating assholes and getting off multiplied by two. _Why the hell did Jason squander his time beating nobodies when he could have felt this good?_

Bruce fell bonelessly on the wall, sweating profusely, accentuating his pheromones.

Tired, disoriented, Jason started licking the scent dispensing neck area in front of him. So _soothing_ : lemon, ginger and honey with a hint of... bourbon, was it?

Jason sucked on the gland, mildly confused he could smell the drink but couldn't drink it. Opening wide, he sucked and sucked harder without success.

Why couldn't he taste it? Was it a mirage, like the rest of the weird-ass evening?

Like a mirage, it'll leave him thirsty and alone in the middle of the desert.

Bruce forgot him there.

Bruce took another Robin because, from the start, Jason was replaceable.

As Jason sucked harder on the patch of skin, he heard a moan, faint. Paying it no mind, Jason wanted a taste to fill his mouth so he could die without regrets, knowing he had made a mark on someone that mattered.

Jason bit hard. Someone groaned. Bitting harder, Jason swallowed the blood that tasted nothing like the tantalizing smell.

Only blood. Smelly and stupid iron.

Jason sucked and licked, trying to get a taste of the bounty hidden. The flesh moved away from his tongue.

 _Flesh?_ Jason opened his eyes and lurched at the sight of Bruce's blood on his raggy sweater, the one they had bought together.

Jason tried to step back but couldn't. He then remembered that a knot once engaged should not be disrupted until it deflated or, the genitals might suffer long-lasting damages.

_**Fuck.** _

_Had he mated Bruce against a wall in the middle of the Narrows?_

Apprehension gripped Jason as he waited for his knot to deflate like his mindset.

"Bruce," he whispered. He heard a soft affirming sound and nothing else.

After what felt like an eternity, the knot deflated and, Jason removed it from its snug location. Cum dripped all over Bruce's pants. The feelings of panic and something else building in Jason's chest swelled.

Alarmed, Jason took extra tissues and tried to clean up the young man's backside. Then, turning him without jolting the man, Jason was reassured Bruce only seemed daze under his diamond mask, a common enough occurrence after a first time receiving a mating bite.

Jason cleaned up the front, glanced at the man's stained pants and underwear and, with no better options in view, pulled them up. He carefully zipped the pants. Then, he tucked himself in and zipped his pants.

Jason pushed his hair back with both hands.

_**Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!** _

_How was he supposed to explain the situation to Alfred?_

_I fucked, knotted and mated your charge against a brick wall tonight. Oh, his ass is still full of my cum. Good night!_

_Fuck_ , Jason was so dead it wasn't even funny.

The first order of business was to drag Bruce to a cab, ride it to the Manor and find a way to leave to find his fucking troublemaker grandfather clock. Then, he'd be safely back in his timeline. Alfred (probably) won't travel through a portal to murder him.

Jason glanced at the dazed Bruce face.

The sex had been better than okay. But, fuck, why did Jason complicate his life that much more?

Of course, he'd take a repeat of the sex, but that wasn't the question, was it?

Jason's eyes lingered on the young man's figure beside him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something falling. He only had the time to see the green-powered grandfather clock hurtling towards him and utter " _motherfu_ -"

Then, he was gone.

Sometime later, Bruce stirred, blinking his dizziness away.

Left and right, there was nobody, not even a note.

Confused, Bruce noticed he was wearing his pants again, although they were uncomfortable. He felt yucky from taking down the Omega sex trafficking ring and the sex following it. Then, he felt throbbing in his ass, his hips and his neck.

Reaching for his neck, his hand could sense the deep indentation marring his mating gland.

Bruce swallowed thickly at the implications.

Earlier that night, he had been an unmated virgin intent on taking down his first human trafficking ring.

Now, he had taken down a human trafficking ring, lost his virginity and got mated by the first person he had crushed on; one he had met a few hours prior and who wouldn't give him his real name.

Bruce flinched as he remembered something else; they forwent protection: no collars, no pills and no condom.

Abruptly, he felt very alone, cold and hollow in the seediest part of Gotham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: 
> 
> Bruce stops trying to kiss Jason when he sees Jason freezes up. Despite the total lack of romantic/sexual experience (beating criminals at night, dying, catatonic and pissed at everyone in that order), Jason craves to receive all of Bruce's attention so he consents. 
> 
> (Author hopes they'll stop, befriend each other and Jason deals with his emotions/traumas with future Bruce. No such luck.)
> 
> They kiss. Jason asks a stupid question.
> 
> Bruce says: "I knew you wanted me." 
> 
> (Author peeks, in horror, from behind their fingers.)
> 
> Jason says: "I don't want you!" 
> 
> Bruce: "Your biological reactions (lists them) say otherwise." Shrugs, "If you're scared of me, I understand."
> 
> (Author facepalms.)
> 
> Jason: "I'm not scared of you!" To prove it, he kisses Bruce and has rough (consensual) sex with Bruce against the wall. He knots (with Bruce's blessing). 
> 
> (Author: Okay. Damage control everyone; don't do anything worse!)
> 
> Jason thinks that he was replaceable in his mentor's mind. Angry, jealous, confused, (insert other twisted emotions), Jason bites Bruce's mating gland without his consent!
> 
> (Author: ...What does it even matter what I say? You'll just do the opposite.)
> 
> Jason cleans and dresses up Bruce and himself. He's scared of facing Alfred as he pictures bringing a mated Bruce back to the Manor. 
> 
> (Author: Consent is important, folks! Jason, just apologize already! Let him hit you for the rest of your life or something.)
> 
> Jason distracts himself by thinking that the sex, at least, was awesome. The green-powered grandfather clock just hops on him and spirits him away.
> 
> (Author: Why!?! What kind of plot intervention is this? He didn't even apologize!)
> 
> Bruce gets out of his daze and notices he's been abandoned in the bad part of town. At the beginning of the night, he was unmated and a virgin trying to arrest an Omega trafficking sex ring; at the end of the night, he's been knotted and mated by his first crush, a man he knew for a few hours, of whom he doesn't even know his name and who just left him in the seediest part of town after they had intercourse. Bruce remembers their total lack of protection (no pills, no condom and no collar). He feels empty. 
> 
> (Author: Protection and consent are important. Plus, don't get randomly attacked by magic grandfather clocks. It never bodes well...)
> 
> End of summary.
> 
> Yes, they'll be more fics in this series (I'm thinking of two more). I don't know when I'll have the time and energy to write them. Sorry if this is filled with mistakes; I didn't revise it as much as it deserved. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this fic; it's the first time I do this pairing. 
> 
> Thanks for the kudos/comments!


End file.
